


Come Here Let Me Clip Your Wings

by AngelinaVansen (catherineflowers)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adultery, Betrayal, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 03:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14803235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/pseuds/AngelinaVansen
Summary: Kathryn and Kashyk in Devore space, deciding on their future.





	Come Here Let Me Clip Your Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the early 2000s, this story came third in the 4th Blue Alert "Other Pairings" category.

"Sometimes, Kathryn, I could swear you're the Devil himself."

Kashyk says this as we're lying side-by-side, post-coital, about four days before we reach the border of Devore space. About three days before he intends to betray me.

"The Devil?" I ask. I want to make sure the translator has understood him correctly.

"Yes," he explains. "A mythical entity, with powers of temptation and evil over mortal creatures."

"We have something similar," I say. But my throat is dry. "I don't understand."

"It's just an expression," he says, and turns away for his coffee-cup.

"A pretty powerful one," I complain. But already I know what he means. The temptation. 

The game we have been playing is a complicated one. We are lovers, and we are sleeping together even though we know we are about to betray one another. 

But he is having second thoughts. A little at a time, I am pulling him into believing his own lie. A few nights ago, as he entered my body, he husked how much he loved me. When we slept beside each other that night, he dreamed of me, and spoke of me aloud. 

Back at home, on Devore, he has a woman. A good woman, a woman he has told me he loves. But he has always said it as an apology, and there is never passion in his voice.

"I do love her, Kathryn," he says to me. Flat as that.

When he returns to Devore, with my head on his platter, I believe he intends to marry her.

Now, he is looking at me. I have gone quiet and thoughtful, and I suppose this must worry him.

"Have I offended you?" he asks in that curious tone he uses to belittle and observe me.

"No," I say quite lightly, and he hasn't. "I understand."

It is so much easier for him to think of me as the Devil. This way, he can sleep happily at night next to his wife knowing he has resisted me. If he saw me as a gift from God, he would need to do something about it. Under all the posturing, the games, the black leather uniform, he is a coward. He's not strong enough to be the man who left his wife, his world, his ship, his life for a gaharay. 

I examine him as he sips his coffee, savouring it. I watch his lips, slightly moist with it. I bet they taste beautiful. He is running one hand over my naked hip, gently. 

"Kathryn ..." he says, and it's so much of a sigh that I wonder if he wants to start making love again. Devore men don't need as much rest as human men, apparently. "You're too quiet," he tells me after a moment. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I say. That is always the problem when we're not making love. There are so many forbidden subjects. We've brought so many lies and tricks into this bedroom. What honest words could I say that won't tip my hand?

I want him, that much is the truth. I could easily fall in love with him. I watch parts of his body, moving, working, and I enjoy them. I often think how I could enjoy them on a daily basis. His face asleep is so lovely. His face making love ....

"Have I offended you?" he asks again. "Perhaps the translator ..."

"No," I repeat. "You haven't. I'm sorry, Kashyk, I'm exhausted, it's been a LONG day."

I wonder what we would have been like, light years away from here. Without telepaths, or Imperiums, or Starfleets. Without his wife and my career and our lies. In still little moments like these, I can almost see it.

He is kissing me again. Across my neck, short kisses, purposeful. Perhaps he is trying to tell me something that is too dangerous to be spoken in words. It's so hard to tell.

He takes my hand, threading his fingers into mine. Our skin is almost the same shade. All those worlds apart, all this space, and our skin is almost the same colour. I crook my leg over his pelvis as he moves close to me. He is almost hard again.

He is the Devil, I think, as his hot mouth latches onto my nipple. So help me God, he is the Devil. The rasp of his chin on the softness of my breast, and his hand wandering between my thighs. Perhaps that's my cowardice too. How could I really have him on my ship for keeps?

I think about what it might be like to have this every night. What it might be like to take him home to nice clean Indiana. To my mother, my sister, to Mark. To Starfleet, this beautiful persecutor, this lyrical thug. Kathryn's not the same as she used to be. I roll onto my back and we pant in tandem, into each other's mouths.

He is stroking me so softly, the inside of my thighs. Spreading me out, making me wet again. Sucking lines along my skin until his mouth is buried in my sex. I watch him, propped up on my elbows. That dark head, those dark eyes, open, intense. His artful fingers on my thighs. The half light, the heat of the room.

What it might be like to be his slave, on Devore. The gaharay concubine. What it might be like to give up everything for love. I suck in air, head flung back, hair tickling down my spine. To be wild, betray everything and everyone and just throw myself into this man's arms. Fuck Earth, fuck home, fuck our mission, fuck you all. I too once thought I was owed something.

A kiss on the lips, one for each of my fingertips, and his eyes are so tender. I settle my hands on his back as he mounts me, watch the lamplight play against the angles of his shoulder blades. A sliding warmth between my legs, and I am full. He is inside me. 

A sigh against my cheek. Oh, I know what's coming. It's coming.

"I love you, Kathryn," so hot against the skin of my cheek. His breath is moist. He can be so free with words like this because he believes that he is lying to me.

He says it as a lie. The beautiful light on his cheekbones, on the fullness of his lips, on the patterns of bone along his brow. How could we have fallen in love in three weeks? He needs me to believe he is going to stay.

But his look as he makes love to me ... the pain as he pulls away, the surge of fulfilment as he thrusts up close again. The emotion in the curl of his lip. The whimper in his breath.

I bite my lip, and mouth my love against his neck. No sound, and he doesn't see. This is a moment for another universe. Another planet, another room, another bed. My communicator is right on the bedside, my uniform is right on the floor. The telepaths are a few decks below. None of it is far away.

My orgasm builds, so strong it makes my teeth ache. How powerful is this? I can see how he thought I might be something supernatural. I can quite believe he is. 

We rock together, moaning, coming. Devore orgasms last a lot longer than human ones. His body arches, his back rippling, and his hands cling to mine. Every tendon in his wrist stands out. I watch them. They are lovely. I wonder if his wife loves them quite as much as I do.

I wonder if she is like me in any way at all.

Slowly, he eases himself out of me, and watches as I clean the mess from my body. He pours another cup of coffee and drinks it looking out of the window, naked. He looks good naked. I could never get enough of watching this man. 

If I wasn't a Starship Captain, and he wasn't a Devore Inspector. If somehow our joining wouldn't diminish us both. I can see us being demons, devils for each other. I can see us destroying each other. I can't see anything but this.


End file.
